Marines, families worry LeJeune's water caused cancer

Tom Gervasi was a Marine in 1954-56 at Camp Lejeune. Like many other men who were stationed at Lejeune, Gervasi developed breast cancer after drinking contaminated water at the site. He now suffers from stage four bone cancer. President Obama recently signed a bill promising benefits for Marines like Gervasi, though the Sarasota resident was there a year prior the first qualifying year for compensation.

Published: Saturday, November 24, 2012 at 8:41 p.m.

Last Modified: Saturday, November 24, 2012 at 8:41 p.m.

SARASOTA - If a 17-year-old Tom Gervasi's whims had led him to a soda-jerk job, or a college class, or even a summer frolicking in the surf, the 76-year-old version of himself likely would be enjoying his retirement now after an honest life well lived.

But two days after graduation from Ben Franklin High School in Rochester, N.Y., a teenage Tom kissed his girlfriend goodbye and hopped a train to join the Marines.

A dependable boy, he had worked hard from the age of 12 or 13 to help support his mother and grandmother. Being a Marine would give him the chance to send even more money home, so Tom dutifully mailed $35 per month — half his paycheck — and was glad to do it.

By then, the Korean War was over, so he was safe, he promised his grandma and his girlfriend, Elaine.

Like thousands of Marines before and after him, he served a stint at Camp LeJeune, the sprawling military base in North Carolina built in 1941.

Pfc. Gervasi was not old enough to drink a beer, and so guzzled water as he sweated through drills and exercise. His food was cooked with it; his clothes washed in it; his body cleansed by it.

Now, decades later, the Sarasota resident believes that water has slowly been killing him.

Startling discovery

Elaine Gervasi, who at 16 wore white pearls and gloves on her wedding day to Tom in the chapel at Camp Lejeune, had just returned from baby-sitting their grandchildren on that frightening day in 2003.

The love of her life was standing bare-chested in their Sarasota home, and something was wrong, even if he was blind to it, standing there with a grin.

His left nipple was inverted, the skin beside it dimpled. As would any woman with decades of mammograms behind her, she sounded the alarm.

So what? Tom told her. Big damn deal.

Elaine started to fuss at him to go to the doctor, for goodness' sake. But Tom was a tough guy, always had been.

After leaving the Marines, he installed aluminum siding to support his young family, and later switched to police work in Irodequoit, a suburb of Rochester. He finished off his career as a senior investigator of homicides and violent crimes for the local district attorney's office.

There was not much that could ruffle the fit retiree, who kept in shape with construction and landscaping work at rental condos in the Florida sun.

Elaine's fussing wore him down, and in March of that year, he learned he needed surgery ASAP.

He had breast cancer — so rare in men that only one in 1,000 will develop it in his lifetime, compared with a one-in-eight chance for women. In a given year, almost 40,000 women will die from the disease, but just 390 men.

Tom's left breast was removed, along with 31 lymph nodes. The margins were clear, meaning it appeared the docs got it all.

He endured chemotherapy and radiation, watched the hair on his head blow down the street. But he was alive.

He thought it was over.

Surprising source

Tom didn't know that other men who had lived even a short time at Camp Lejeune were beginning to compare notes.

More cases of male breast cancer had turned up, and the only common denominator was the camp's groundwater.

Other types of cancer cropped up as well — in brains, lungs, livers and bladders — all in families from Camp Lejeune.

Its children had developed cancers, too, most often leukemia and non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Many had died as children, buried near the camp in a haunting cemetery of small tombstones.

Jim Partain of Tallahassee was born at the camp in 1968, and lived there for the first 13 months of his life. In 2007, he learned that he, too, had breast cancer.

His research and outreach found Tom and 79 other men with the same disease who at some point had lived on the base. Experts and common sense say the odds are slim that so many rare cases would have emerged by coincidence.

No one knows for sure how many people developed breast cancer, and tracking them is difficult because they are scattered across the country. Many also might have died of cancer without knowing about the connection to Camp Lejeune.

Almost 185,000 people have signed up on a Marine Corps registry of those who once lived on base, including more than 5,000 in Florida.

Tests conducted by the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry, a federal public agency of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, confirmed the health risks of living there.

It determined that the camp's groundwater had been contaminated by dozens of toxic chemicals from the 1950s into the 1980s. Among theses chemicals were perchloroethylene — thought to be from waste disposal at a nearby dry cleaners — and benzene from leaking fuel storage tanks. Both chemicals are known human carcinogens.

The wells were closed in 1985.

More than a million men, women and children drank the water through the years.

Partain and others who had lost family members to cancer pushed the Marine Corps to provide compensation. They say the Corps dragged its feet and denied knowing the extent of the contamination even after it had been repeatedly reported by chemists.

In 2010, the director of the ATSDR wrote to the deputy assistant secretary of the Navy and the deputy commandant of the Marines, stating unequivocally that the water at Camp Lejuene was contaminated.

The agency also critized the Corps for withholding documents it needed to complete its studies.

"The Few, The Proud, The Forgotten," as the Camp Lejeune men called themselves, would not give up.

They appeared in a 2011 documentary, went on talk shows, created a website with information. Over time, their efforts made national news and persuaded members of Congress.

In August, with Partain watching, President Barack Obama signed the Honoring America's Veterans and Caring for Camp Lejeune Families Act. It provides medical care for Marines and their families, and for that, ex-Marines say "thanks."

But they believe additional compensation and life insurance to support their families is warranted, as well.

Maj. Gen. James Kessler said in a prepared statement that the Corps supported the act, but did not address if additional help would be forthcoming.

No help

News of the act's signing brought a smile to Tom's face, but one filled with grim irony, not mirth.

It won't help him.

He left Camp Lejeune in 1956. The act covers those stationed there from 1957 to 1987.

Partain says the only reason 1957 is the cutoff is that studies are ongoing in the area of the camp where Tom and other single men lived in the years prior. Studies of that section, thought to be the most contaminated of all, were supposed to be ready four years ago, Partain says, and are due to be released this month.

Cynical now, Partain does not think that will happen.

Even if it does, time is running out for Tom.

In 2009, those murderous breast cancer cells invaded his bones and his lungs. He found out when his fever spiked and Elaine took him to the emergency room. A doctor brusquely told him he had terminal bone cancer, then left the room.

Tom was sure it was a mistake. He believed he'd been cured.

These days, his world is doctors' appointments, his television and his anger, which he tries to hide from Elaine by venting it at liberals and other targets on TV. He gave away his power tools, which broke his wife's heart. He labors to breathe, describing his lungs as crawling with cancer cells.

He and Elaine told the oncologist not to tell them how far his cancer has progressed or how long he might have. They want to try to enjoy their time together, to tackle each day anew.

Tom is tough, but tired of feeling sick. He keeps up a brave and steady front, but no matter how hard he tries, his voice cracks when he says he wants Elaine to be taken care of. His suffering will end, but hers will go on. That pretty little girl who put her faith in a handsome soldier deserves better.

He worked hard all his life, an honest provider for his family of six. Now he says he feels abandoned at the end of it by the government he served.

He has documents from physicians verifying his illness and stating they believe it was caused by contaminated water at Camp Lejeune from all those years ago. Elaine has written letters to politicians and even the president, asking for help while there's time.

So far, only a handful of those who have applied for 100 percent disability benefits from exposure at Camp Lejeune have received them. A few veterans or their families have filed suit against the government that are pending.

Tom never imagined his last days would be spent submitting paperwork and pleading for help with a disease for which he bears no responsibility. He was just a kid, drinking what he assumed was clean, pure, good-for-you water while serving his country.

He has excellent insurance, and thank God for that, but he wishes he could know that his responsibility to Elaine will be paid in full someday.

He wants that for her for the years ahead, when his TV is silent and the house is, too.

<p><em>SARASOTA</em> - If a 17-year-old Tom Gervasi's whims had led him to a soda-jerk job, or a college class, or even a summer frolicking in the surf, the 76-year-old version of himself likely would be enjoying his retirement now after an honest life well lived.</p><p>But two days after graduation from Ben Franklin High School in Rochester, N.Y., a teenage Tom kissed his girlfriend goodbye and hopped a train to join the Marines.</p><p>A dependable boy, he had worked hard from the age of 12 or 13 to help support his mother and grandmother. Being a Marine would give him the chance to send even more money home, so Tom dutifully mailed $35 per month — half his paycheck — and was glad to do it.</p><p>By then, the Korean War was over, so he was safe, he promised his grandma and his girlfriend, Elaine.</p><p>Like thousands of Marines before and after him, he served a stint at Camp LeJeune, the sprawling military base in North Carolina built in 1941.</p><p>Pfc. Gervasi was not old enough to drink a beer, and so guzzled water as he sweated through drills and exercise. His food was cooked with it; his clothes washed in it; his body cleansed by it.</p><p>Now, decades later, the Sarasota resident believes that water has slowly been killing him.</p><p><b>Startling discovery</b></p><p>Elaine Gervasi, who at 16 wore white pearls and gloves on her wedding day to Tom in the chapel at Camp Lejeune, had just returned from baby-sitting their grandchildren on that frightening day in 2003.</p><p>The love of her life was standing bare-chested in their Sarasota home, and something was wrong, even if he was blind to it, standing there with a grin.</p><p>His left nipple was inverted, the skin beside it dimpled. As would any woman with decades of mammograms behind her, she sounded the alarm.</p><p>So what? Tom told her. Big damn deal.</p><p>Elaine started to fuss at him to go to the doctor, for goodness' sake. But Tom was a tough guy, always had been.</p><p>After leaving the Marines, he installed aluminum siding to support his young family, and later switched to police work in Irodequoit, a suburb of Rochester. He finished off his career as a senior investigator of homicides and violent crimes for the local district attorney's office.</p><p>There was not much that could ruffle the fit retiree, who kept in shape with construction and landscaping work at rental condos in the Florida sun.</p><p>Elaine's fussing wore him down, and in March of that year, he learned he needed surgery ASAP.</p><p>He had breast cancer — so rare in men that only one in 1,000 will develop it in his lifetime, compared with a one-in-eight chance for women. In a given year, almost 40,000 women will die from the disease, but just 390 men.</p><p>Tom's left breast was removed, along with 31 lymph nodes. The margins were clear, meaning it appeared the docs got it all. </p><p>He endured chemotherapy and radiation, watched the hair on his head blow down the street. But he was alive.</p><p>He thought it was over. </p><p><b>Surprising source</b></p><p>Tom didn't know that other men who had lived even a short time at Camp Lejeune were beginning to compare notes.</p><p>More cases of male breast cancer had turned up, and the only common denominator was the camp's groundwater.</p><p>Other types of cancer cropped up as well — in brains, lungs, livers and bladders — all in families from Camp Lejeune.</p><p>Its children had developed cancers, too, most often leukemia and non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Many had died as children, buried near the camp in a haunting cemetery of small tombstones.</p><p>Jim Partain of Tallahassee was born at the camp in 1968, and lived there for the first 13 months of his life. In 2007, he learned that he, too, had breast cancer.</p><p>His research and outreach found Tom and 79 other men with the same disease who at some point had lived on the base. Experts and common sense say the odds are slim that so many rare cases would have emerged by coincidence.</p><p>No one knows for sure how many people developed breast cancer, and tracking them is difficult because they are scattered across the country. Many also might have died of cancer without knowing about the connection to Camp Lejeune.</p><p>Almost 185,000 people have signed up on a Marine Corps registry of those who once lived on base, including more than 5,000 in Florida.</p><p>Tests conducted by the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry, a federal public agency of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, confirmed the health risks of living there.</p><p>It determined that the camp's groundwater had been contaminated by dozens of toxic chemicals from the 1950s into the 1980s. Among theses chemicals were perchloroethylene — thought to be from waste disposal at a nearby dry cleaners — and benzene from leaking fuel storage tanks. Both chemicals are known human carcinogens.</p><p>The wells were closed in 1985.</p><p>More than a million men, women and children drank the water through the years.</p><p>Partain and others who had lost family members to cancer pushed the Marine Corps to provide compensation. They say the Corps dragged its feet and denied knowing the extent of the contamination even after it had been repeatedly reported by chemists.</p><p>In 2010, the director of the ATSDR wrote to the deputy assistant secretary of the Navy and the deputy commandant of the Marines, stating unequivocally that the water at Camp Lejuene was contaminated. </p><p>The agency also critized the Corps for withholding documents it needed to complete its studies. </p><p>"The Few, The Proud, The Forgotten," as the Camp Lejeune men called themselves, would not give up.</p><p>They appeared in a 2011 documentary, went on talk shows, created a website with information. Over time, their efforts made national news and persuaded members of Congress.</p><p>In August, with Partain watching, President Barack Obama signed the Honoring America's Veterans and Caring for Camp Lejeune Families Act. It provides medical care for Marines and their families, and for that, ex-Marines say "thanks." </p><p>But they believe additional compensation and life insurance to support their families is warranted, as well.</p><p>Maj. Gen. James Kessler said in a prepared statement that the Corps supported the act, but did not address if additional help would be forthcoming.</p><p><b>No help</b></p><p>News of the act's signing brought a smile to Tom's face, but one filled with grim irony, not mirth.</p><p>It won't help him.</p><p>He left Camp Lejeune in 1956. The act covers those stationed there from 1957 to 1987.</p><p>Partain says the only reason 1957 is the cutoff is that studies are ongoing in the area of the camp where Tom and other single men lived in the years prior. Studies of that section, thought to be the most contaminated of all, were supposed to be ready four years ago, Partain says, and are due to be released this month.</p><p>Cynical now, Partain does not think that will happen.</p><p>Even if it does, time is running out for Tom.</p><p>In 2009, those murderous breast cancer cells invaded his bones and his lungs. He found out when his fever spiked and Elaine took him to the emergency room. A doctor brusquely told him he had terminal bone cancer, then left the room.</p><p>Tom was sure it was a mistake. He believed he'd been cured.</p><p>These days, his world is doctors' appointments, his television and his anger, which he tries to hide from Elaine by venting it at liberals and other targets on TV. He gave away his power tools, which broke his wife's heart. He labors to breathe, describing his lungs as crawling with cancer cells.</p><p>He and Elaine told the oncologist not to tell them how far his cancer has progressed or how long he might have. They want to try to enjoy their time together, to tackle each day anew.</p><p>Tom is tough, but tired of feeling sick. He keeps up a brave and steady front, but no matter how hard he tries, his voice cracks when he says he wants Elaine to be taken care of. His suffering will end, but hers will go on. That pretty little girl who put her faith in a handsome soldier deserves better.</p><p>He worked hard all his life, an honest provider for his family of six. Now he says he feels abandoned at the end of it by the government he served.</p><p>He has documents from physicians verifying his illness and stating they believe it was caused by contaminated water at Camp Lejeune from all those years ago. Elaine has written letters to politicians and even the president, asking for help while there's time.</p><p>So far, only a handful of those who have applied for 100 percent disability benefits from exposure at Camp Lejeune have received them. A few veterans or their families have filed suit against the government that are pending.</p><p>Tom never imagined his last days would be spent submitting paperwork and pleading for help with a disease for which he bears no responsibility. He was just a kid, drinking what he assumed was clean, pure, good-for-you water while serving his country.</p><p>He has excellent insurance, and thank God for that, but he wishes he could know that his responsibility to Elaine will be paid in full someday.</p><p>He wants that for her for the years ahead, when his TV is silent and the house is, too.</p>